


Chiffonade

by AliferousRose (CatiDono)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Character-centric, Gen, Pacific Rim fusion, Will Graham Needs a Hug, as freaking always, drift compatible, i am a pro at tags, i throw around a lot of jargon without bothering to explain because I'm kinda lazy, mostly to do with the drift and how hannibal uses it to ruin will's life tbh, offscreen... for now at least, won't have tons to do with the kaiju, you probably have to have seen the movie tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 05:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11730654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatiDono/pseuds/AliferousRose
Summary: Chiffonade: To slice into very thin strips or shreds. A culinary term literally translated from the French "made of rags"Will Graham is a jaeger pilot-in-training who can't stop chasing the rabbit. Hannibal Lecter is a former pilot who hasn't drifted with anyone since his partner died.  Might as well try a neural handshake and see what happens.A series of loosely connected stories about how unfortunate Will Graham's life is in any universe, and also how any good OTP should be drift compatible. More info per chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I watched pacific rim and then my friend (theangelstolemyphonebox on tumblr) and I started this hyped text conversation about Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter being drift compatible and well now here we are.
> 
> Each chapter will be a kind of snapshot into the life and times of Pacific Rim!verse Hannibal and Will. Might be shippy in the future (more shippy than drift compatibility already is I mean), but I will add tags appropriately. I have been known to ship francis/will/hannibal so that is not entirely out of the question. Really the only certainty is that Will Graham is gonna have a Bad Time.

"Shut him down."

_The boy stares down at his hands, covered in blood.  It's terrifying, but he can't look anywhere else.  It's worse everywhere else.  He's only seven._

"Will, can you hear me?"

_Something moves nearby and he jumps like a startled rabbit.  The monster is dead, he tells himself.  It's dead, like his mother and father.  None of them are coming for him.  But something else is.  The boy knows what happens next.  How does he know?_

"How's Alana?"

"Stable.  Heart rate dropping.  She should come out of it in a few moments."

"Good. Will, come back to us now.  It's over."

_A bar of light sweeps across the boy's vision and suddenly he stares down at his hands, covered in blood.  It's terrifying, but he can't look anywhere else.  It's worse everywhere else.  He's only seven.  Something moves nearby and he jumps like a startled rabbit._

"Dammit, Will, wake up!"

Will blinks and is suddenly himself again, his present self, crumpled on the floor of the testing room.  His cheek is stinging, because the marshal slapped him of course.  It's not the first time.  But something was different.

"Alana?" he asks softly, turning his head.  By now she's sitting up, an orange shock blanket around her shoulders, a med tech at her side.  She glances up at him, doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"I'm fine, Will."  Her voice is shaking, but she does look like she's recovering quickly.

"She'll be fine," Marshal Crawford agrees with more confidence.  "We've noticed that, generally speaking, the sensitive ones are the ones that bounce back fastest from a failed drift."

"Generally speaking," Will repeats, with a humorless chuckle.

"Don't start with the self pity now," the marshal snarls, but the hands that lift Will to his feet are surprisingly gentle.  Jack knows as well as Will what this means.  He won't say it, Will knows, but someone has to.

"I'm not being self pitying at all, Jack."  Will keeps his voice level, with just a touch of wryness.  "Just stating the facts.  I can't drift without getting lost in the memories, which means I can't drift at all.  Alana was kind enough to try with me, despite my reputation, and she's one of the strongest pilots we have.  If she couldn't keep me stable, no one can."  The tiniest trembling starts in Will's fingertips, and he surreptitiously clenches his hands into loose fists.  There are enough rumors about him already; he doesn't have to add one about how he bawled like a baby on his last day.  "It's time to kick me out, Jack."

People are bustling around them, helping Alana out of her suit and prepping the room for its next use.  Busy, all of them, but certainly listening in.  Probably wondering how Will gets away with calling the marshal by his first name.  Well, let them wonder.  It can add to the future mystery of Will Graham, the highest scoring cadet ever, who had perfect empathy but was impossible to drift with.

"You're a damn good pilot in every simulator," Jack snaps, easily picking up the threads of their old argument.  "If there was a way to pilot a Jaeger solo—"

"But there's not, Jack."  Will starts walking out of the room, forcing Jack to follow.  If they're going to have this out again, he doesn’t want to do it in public.  "Only one person ever has, you know that, and he's a special case."

"That's an understatement," Jack mutters.

"Listen."  Will stops in the corridor, turning to face his superior.  "We can't keep this up.  It isn't fair to the other pilots to keep putting them through this."  He almost adds _and I think it's starting to affect me_ , but decides against it.  There haven't been any extensive tests done on the long term effects of drifting, and Will's been poked and prodded enough in his life.  He doesn't need anyone wondering if 'chasing the rabbit' so much is melting his brain.

"You're too good to lose," Jack repeats stubbornly.  Something in his face sets off alarm bells in Will's head.

"What are you planning to do with me, then?"

"There is..."  Jack glances around, then jerks his chin at Will.  "We'll talk in my office."

Will trails after Jack through the twisting halls, thoughts churning.  What _is_ Jack going to do with him?  He has a sudden thought of Jack handing his brain over to Price and Zeller to be autopsied with the kaiju organs.

Jack gestures for Will to precede him into the room and shuts the door behind them.  "There is," he starts again, with no preamble, "one more potential partner for you.  He's from Lithuania."

"But there's something wrong with him," Will says slowly, watching Jack's face, "or you would have already arranged for us to try drifting.  You want my opinion before you set this up." Will snorts. "That's new."

"There's nothing wrong with him."  Jack is frowning at a picture on the wall, his back half-turned towards Will.  "He's difficult to drift with, though.  Downright impossible for him to complete the neural handshake.  Believe it or not, he's tried more times than you have."  Will's eyebrows rise slightly.

"I can drift, Jack.  It sounds like this guy can't even make the connection."

"He did, once. Had a partner, and they were incredible. Defended the Russian coastline for three years."

"So what happened?"

"She died while they were in the drift together," Jack answers bluntly. "He hasn't found someone he can partner with since.  The Russian jaeger base doesn't know what to do with him, but they heard about you and offered to transfer him here.  Said they've got plenty of pilots and we've got plenty of jaegers.  I haven't answered yet."  Jack finally faces Will and meets his gaze.  "What should I say?"

Will is quiet for a moment.  "If I get lost in the memory of his partner's death, it could kill me."  Jack nods silently.  "It's also possible that he's damaged good now and no one will ever be able to drift with him again, much less an anomaly like me."  Jack nods again.  "But he's also the last chance I have to pilot a jaeger, or you wouldn't be bothering to tell me about him."

"You know as much as I know about this.  So what's it going to be?  I can have him here by tomorrow morning or I can have you shipped off to somewhere peaceful and far from the coast by tomorrow night.  Your choice."

Will suppresses a bitter chuckle.  Trust Jack to make such a loaded offer and act like it's nothing.  Just pick one, Will.  Risk probable insanity and death from getting lost in memories, or live in a cornfield somewhere knowing that you could have helped people if you'd had the guts to try one more drift.

"Will?"

"Why not?"  Will runs his fingers through his hair, trying to shake the feeling for foreboding that settles on him as he nods.  "Tell the Russians we'll try."

Jack smiles in satisfaction, and Will has the feeling that Jack had never really been giving him a choice at all.

"I'll call them now."  It's a clear dismissal, but Will hesitates in front of Jack's desk for another few seconds.

"What's his name?"  It seems somehow ludicrous to Will that he just agreed to drift with someone whose name he doesn't even know.

"Dr. Lecter," Jack answers, not looking up from where he's shuffling papers.  "Dr. Hannibal Lecter."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait a bit but i want to get to them meeting so badly that I said screw it. Here's chapter 2: the attempted drift. Hannibal has a solution to every problem.

"So."  Will stands at the entrance to the room, fingers wrapped too tightly around the edge of his helmet.  "Did they warn you about me?"

Dr. Lecter looks up from where he has been examining one of the joints of his pilot suit.  His eyes are piercing, a dark mahogany that almost looks red in the glow from the interfaces around them.  Belatedly, Will wonders if the man even speaks English.  A language barrier won't exist in the drift, if they make it that far, but it sure will make it awkward before and after.

"You must be Will."  His English is smooth, lightly accented in a way that reminds Will of castles and lordships.  Dr. Lecter straightens up with the fluid grace of a man who is used to the weight of a pilot suit.  His smile is friendly but opaque as he reaches a hand out to Will, and Will is shocked to realize that he can't tell what's going on behind that curve of lips.  That's never happened before, a person that Will can't read like a book.  He fumbles the helmet into his other hand and reaches out to take the proffered hand, trying to regain some of the equanimity he'd garnered the night before.

"Yes.  You're Doctor Lecter."

"Please, call me Hannibal."  The other man's grip is perfectly firm, giving away as little of his true emotions as his face.  Will is getting a real good idea why nobody can drift with this guy, and it actually makes him relax a little.  He won't have to worry about chasing the rabbit if the neural handshake doesn't even work.

"What do you mean, 'warned me'?"  Hannibal steps back and eyes Will curiously.  "They said that you have trouble in the drift, keeping back the memories.  That it's been..." he hesitates slightly, as if weighing each word.  "Difficult for you."

"That's putting it mildly."  Will leans back against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest.  When he realizes what he's doing, he forces them to his sides.  Something tells him that Dr. Lecter is as adept at reading people as Will himself, and right now Will's entire posture is screaming _defensive, do not touch_.  Not the best start when you're about to try a mind meld.  "I get lost in the memories easily, that's true.  But they're not always mine."  Will takes a deep breath.  He promised himself that he wouldn't let this guy go in uninformed, and he won't.  Forcing his tone to remain bland, he continues, trying to list the facts as if they're someone else's statistics.

"I've tried to drift with eighteen people to date.  In each case, the neural bridge was formed, but afterwards I lost myself in the memory stream.  On eleven of those occasions, the memory wasn't mine.  Of those eleven—"  Will can't stop the convulsive swallow, and he drops his gaze from Hannibal's face to the floor.  "Seven of my drift partners were dragged into the rabbit hole with me."

"Fascinating."

The incongruity of the answer has Will jerking his head up to stare at Hannibal.  Is the man joking?  But there is no sarcasm in his face or voice.  Will isn't sure what his expression is, but Hannibal raises a hand as if to placate him.

"You misunderstand.  Before I was a jaeger pilot, I was a psychologist.  The intricacies of the human mind have always captivated me, and my interest has only grown since I first experienced the drift."  Hannibal steps closer, and Will feels like he is being X-rayed by those crimson-brown eyes.  No one has ever looked at him and _seen_ him the way Hannibal does, and it's more than a little disconcerting.  "You are afraid that you will see something you do not wish to?"

 _I'm afraid you're going to run out that door and take my last chance with you,_ Will thinks, but out loud he says, "Marshal Crawford told me you haven't drifted in a while."

If the sudden change of topic startles Hannibal, he doesn't let it show.  "Not since my previous partner died, no.  Although I was never very adept at completing the neural handshake before her either."

"She died while you were in the drift together, right?"  Will is almost ashamed at his probing, but he reminds himself that they're presumably going to be in each other's heads in five minuteS anyway.

"Yes."  Hannibal makes no effort to explain further.

"I'm sorry."

There are a few seconds of silence where they just look at each other.  Hannibal reminds Will of a big cat from a zoo, all relaxed muscles and a hunter's eyes.  He's certainly unlike anyone else Will's tried to drift with before.

"In answer to your unspoken question,"  Hannibal says softly, "I am not going to walk out on you.  I have excellent control in the drift.  You will not fall into any of my memories, and I don't think you'll slip into yours either.  I believe we have a respectable chance of making this work."

Before Will can answer, the marshal walks in with two of the techs and Alana, of all people.  Will makes himself meet her gaze and smile softly, and to his relief she smiles back.  Most of her focus is on Hannibal, though.  For that matter, Will realizes that most of his focus is still on Hannibal, as if he has a compass in his core and Hannibal is a magnet.  Well. He tried to explain what happens to him in the drift.  If they do manage to synchronize, which is seeming very unlikely, Hannibal will at least be forewarned.  Will gives himself a mental shake.  Going into the drift thinking he'll fail is the best way to make sure he does.  This is his last chance, and he isn't going to screw it up.

Will is so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he misses a few lines of dialogue, but when he comes back to the conversation he hears Hannibal answering a question that Will didn't register.

"Fine.  Quite pleasant, actually."

"Good,"  Jack says.  Coming over to Will, Jack squeezes his shoulder gently.  "How are you?" he asks in a low voice.  "Sleep at all?"

"No better or worse than usual," Will answers, which is the truth.  Nightmares keep him up most nights, and last night was no different.  The anomaly from his drift with Alana, which he still hasn't told anyone, featured prominently.  The light sweeping over him, and then the memory restarting, over and over and over until he woke gasping, sheets soaked with sweat.  That hasn't happened before, ever.  He's never been able to escape a memory until it's played itself out or someone snapped him out of it.  But this… glitch is the only word he can think of to describe what happened.  Like a scratched record skipping.  What does that mean?  Is it an improvement, or a sign of mental degradation? 

"Will?"  Jack is still gripping his shoulder, and Will realizes he's been staring off into space.  "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"  Jack's eyes are sharp, and Will's heart flutters.  _He knows there was something wrong with that drift._   Will opens his mouth, and he's honestly not sure if he's about to confess everything to Jack or lie his ass off.

He sees Hannibal over Jack's shoulder, engaged in conversation with Alana.  If Will bails on this now, it won't just be his future as a pilot he's ruining.  If Hannibal has to stoop to trying to drift with him, he must be out of options as well.  The man defended the coast for three years with his previous partner.

 _You're a damn good pilot._  Jack's words ring in Will's head.  He would be, if he could get over whatever is wrong with his drift, and with the kaiju getting bigger and smarter, they need good pilots.  He can't take himself and Hannibal out of the game because of one moment of confusion.

"I'm fine. Jack."  Will takes a deep breath and manages a smile.  "I think we even have a shot at this."

Jack's eyebrows climb into his hairline at the vote of confidence, but he nods and lets go of Will's shoulder.  "Well all right.  Let's get this show on the road."

 

"Will."

Will turns his head to look at Hannibal, strapped in next to him.  The other man's voice is slightly crackly as it comes through their helmets.

"If we're going to make this work, I need you to try things differently.  I know what they teach you about drifting, but that doesn't work for me.  I need you to reach for me through the drift."

"But—"

"I know they tell you the opposite, that you should relax and ride the flow, but I know from experience that I cannot drift that way."  Hannibal gives Will another one of his X-ray glances. "I suspect we are similar in that respect."

Will suppresses the urge to grind his teeth.  Hannibal is telling him this _now_?  But... Will has to admit it makes sense.  His trouble is always because the memories are too strong for him and he can't fight them.  But maybe Hannibal's way... "Fine," he agrees, turning his head to the front again.  Hannibal nods once and mirrors Will's position, face forward, eyes closed.  Will takes several deep breaths to steady himself.  This is the last chance.  If Hannibal says he can make it work his way, Will is going to give Hannibal's method all he's got.

 _Neural handshake initiating,_ Alana's voice says in his ear.  Will always forgets that when she isn't in a jaeger, she's a fully qualified neurotech.   _Connection in five, four, three, two, one._

The spike of the bridge into his brain makes Will tense his spine, but he ignores the temporary pain.  Memories start to flash by, but instead of letting himself be swept up, Will forces his way through, reaching, although he isn't sure for what.  Reaching, reaching, reaching—

The feel of stretching stops abruptly, and Will opens his eyes, confused.  He's standing next to Hannibal in the testing room again.  "So the bridge failed," he sighs.

"Not exactly, Will."  Hannibal places a hand on Will's shoulder in a comforting way, and Will suddenly realizes that neither of them are in their harnesses anymore.

"What the hell?"  A flash of light in the observation window catches Will's eye, and he looks up.  A memory is reflected there, his own, all the more vivid for having been revisited so recently.  So the neural bridge did work.  Will takes an unwilling step towards the glass, eyes fixed on the smoking wreckage of a car.  He knows that car.  That's the car that he hid behind when— the glass shatters and Will is suddenly somewhere else, the foyer of what must be a truly enormous mansion.  It's not his memory.

"Hannibal? Shit!"  Will braces himself, ready to claw for his own personality as the memory rolls over and smothers him, but that moment never comes.

"Be calm, Will."  Hannibal is suddenly there in front of him, dressed not in a pilot's body armor, but in an impeccable grey suit with a dark red tie.  "You are not in a memory. We are in the drift."

"They say the drift is the nothing between memories," Will answers warily, still tense, waiting for the ambush that he knows is coming.  "This isn't nothing."

"Ordinarily it is nothing, but you have a very special mind, Will, as do I.  That calls for a very special kind of drift."  Hannibal turns, arms out to display their surroundings.  "This is my mind palace.  In here, memories cannot trap you, because they're all stored safely away."  Will opens his mouth, but Hannibal raises a finger to forestall the question.  "Neither of us truly experienced any memory sharing when we formed the neural handshake.  Yours are there—" Hannibal gestures behind Will at a massive set of double doors that look like they could lead to a ballroom— "and mine are all around us."

Will stares at the ballroom doors until Hannibal touches his hand gently, drawing his attention away.  "You may of course enter that room whenever you wish, but that would undoubtedly cause the same problem you've had during previous drift sessions."

"And you didn't see them?"  Will's voice is shaking, but he barely even notices.  This is so far beyond what he ever thought was possible.  "But how did you bring me here?  And what was that before, in the testing room window?"

The door behind him creaks slightly, but Hannibal raises his hands to Will's shoulders so he can't turn.  "I did not see them.  I only managed to bring you here because you trusted me completely when we entered the drift.  I haven't been able to find someone who could do that since Bedelia."  Something thumps on the floor above them but Will doesn't even try to look, too entranced by the quiet intensity of Hannibal's words. 

"The window in the testing room was a very strong memory of yours; it almost got away from me.  I imagine that's the one that gives you the most trouble?"  Will can only nod, awestruck.  "Well, it's with the others now, and I will keep it away from you.  Here is where you will find the quiet you need to be in the drift."  Hannibal's smile is warm, tinged with relief.  "What do you think?"

Will can't help but smile back.  It had been both of their last chances, but it had paid off.  "I think we're ready to fight some kaiju."

 

Will opens his eyes to find that barely a minute has passed while he and Hannibal were in the mind palace.  In fact, Jack isn't even finished swearing in disbelief.

"Holy shit.  Are you sure, Alana?"

"Nearly perfect synchronicity, Jack.  Ninety-nine point eight percent.  Both pilots stable."

"I'll be damned."  Jack leans forward and taps on the glass.  "You hear that in there?  Somehow, you two made it work.  Congratulations, gentlemen; you're officially jaeger pilots."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal convinces Will to do something that Will really doesn't want to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I apologize, mea culpa. I neglected to specify in the last chapter that the foyer of the mind palace is canonically that beautiful chapel in Italy where Hannibal leaves Will his heart. My only excuse is that until last week I had only seen seasons 2 and 3 once apiece. Strap in for a smidge of retconning, lol.

 

 

“Why is she called the Chesapeake Ripper?”  Will wonders aloud.  They’re piloting their Jaeger back to the drop point, ready to be carried home.  The mission was another success, courtesy of excellent piloting and shrewd tactics.  The level 4 Kaiju hadn’t even made it within view of the coast.

“Her nuclear core was built on the bay; the project was the pride of Maryland.  As for the Ripper part…”  Hannibal flexes his fingers, and the enormous titanium claws of the Jaeger mimic his movement.  “I would think that’s rather self-explanatory.”

Will rolls his eyes.  “I mean that it isn’t very elegant.  Most of the others are things like Gypsy Danger, or named after pieces of art.  The ‘Chesapeake Ripper’ seems crude by comparison.”

“Well, she is American.”  Hannibal smiles at Will’s soft huff of laughter.  “Unusual name or not, she certainly gets the job done.”

“Yes, she does.”  There are a few moments of silence as the giant mech continues to churn through the waves towards the coast. 

“Have you thought about my offer, Will?”

Will grimaces.  “Extensively.”

“And?”

“What if it doesn’t work?”  Will knows Hannibal is watching him; he can feel Hannibal’s entire attention laser focused on him.  It’s just as disconcerting as it was the first time they drifted.  “We’re fine as we are; we fight Kaiju and we win.  I don’t want to jeopardize that by poking around in my head too much.”

“If you don’t work on controlling your empathy, you won’t ever be able to drift with another partner.”

“I thought that was why I had you.”  Will tries for a grin, but it falls flat.

“You may not always have me, Mr. Graham.”

Will doesn't bother to scowl at Hannibal; the other man can feel his annoyance through the drift.  He hates when Hannibal speaks so formally, like they’re strangers even after they’ve been working together for months, and he knows Hannibal knows that.

“Why do you hesitate, Will?”  Hannibal’s voice is soft, comforting.

Will grits his teeth, but after everything Hannibal has done for Will, he deserves an answer.  “I’m afraid.”

“Of your own memories?”

“Of my own mind.”  Will trains his eyes forward, watching the way the ocean parts around the Ripper’s titanium body.  “The last time I went down the rabbit hole, something happened.  It was… different.  I don’t want it to happen again.”

“What happened?”  Hannibal presses, patient but implacable as ever.

“Has anyone ever managed to actually keep a secret from you?” Will snaps, trying to make Hannibal blink first, trying to break the pressure he can sense building between them.  They’re getting close to something he doesn’t want to tell anyone, and Will has the unsettling feeling that he can't stop Hannibal from finding out about it.

"I would hardly know the answer to that, Will, would I?"  There's a trace of a smile on Hannibal's lips, but his next words are serious.  "Why don't you want to tell me?"

"I don’t want to tell anyone, Doctor Lecter," Will corrects with a humorless smirk.  "It's nothing personal."

"Are you afraid I'll tell Jack?"

"No," Will says instantly.  Hannibal raises an eyebrow, so he elaborates.  "You wouldn't tell Jack, because then Jack would pull me from the pilot roster, which would get you pulled from the roster, and I know you well enough to know that you don't want to give this up."

"Indeed."  Hannibal says thoughtfully.  "So this is something so bad that Jack would revoke your Jaeger access?"

Will clenches his jaw.  "Can't we just leave it alone?  You're a psychiatrist, but you're not _my_ psychiatrist."

"Do you think you need a psychiatrist?"

Will abruptly stops walking, bringing his half of the Ripper to a standstill.  Hannibal, perfectly in sync with him as always, has already maneuvered his half of the controls to compensate for the sudden halt and keep the Jaeger from overbalancing.  They don't even stumble. For some reason, Will almost wishes they would.

"Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, Hannibal."

"You're my drift partner.  It's my responsibility to make sure you're in good health, both physically and mentally.  For your safety as well as my own."

Will grinds his teeth, refusing to meet Hannibal's gaze.  He's right, dammit, and Will knows it.  Hannibal is the only person that can do this.  He must have had reservations about Will, and maybe he still has some, but he's never breathed a word of them to Jack.  And now here he is subtly reminding Will that both of their lives depend on mutual mental stability.

"The memory got… stuck last time."  Will doesn't even speak the words out loud, retreating to the familiar space of Hannibal's mind palace instead.  He realizes that he's dressed himself in his favorite fishing gear, a subconscious attempt to find comfort in a situation that he has very little control over.  He doesn’t bother to change it.  Hannibal has never seemed to care what Will looks like when he enters the mind palace.  Hannibal is there with him of course, in one of the impeccable suits he's always wearing in the drift.  Will sometimes wonders about the significance of the many suits Hannibal wears, if they mean something specific or are as random as Will's own clothes.  Today, that's the last thought on his mind.

"Got stuck?"  Hannibal's words are also spoken only into the drift, and Will is grateful for it.  It makes it easier for him to continue.

"Usually, if I chase the rabbit, the memory will play until the end and then I'll wake up," he explains, walking with deliberate slowness around the room.  It's not the space where they first met; it’s some other room, a study maybe. They seem to end up in a different place every time they drift, but the room is always decorated with exquisite taste.  Here, there is a fireplace with bright flames flickering over the logs, and an interior balcony level lined with bookshelves. Will has a feeling that if he wanted to, he could read each book on those shelves, that Hannibal really would remember the full contents of every volume in here.  He paces the ground level as he speaks, trying to relax.

"When I drifted with Alana, a few days before you and I met, I got lost in the memory stream, as usual.”  It’s easier to keep the bitterness out of his voice now that he’s a successful pilot.  “It was my memory that time, not Alana's.  The same one that almost got me the first time we drifted."  Hannibal nods silently, encouraging Will to continue.  Will takes a deep breath, but he's already committed to the conversation.  No reason to hesitate.

"The memory was interrupted.  There was this…"  Will gestures vaguely, unsure how to describe it.  "A bar of light.  Like the hand of a metronome.  It swept me back and the memory restarted.  I had no control over it.  I didn’t even know what was happening.  I think if Jack hadn’t woken me up…"

"You would have been trapped in a loop," Hannibal supplies when Will doesn’t finish the thought.  "Reliving the same few minutes over and over for eternity."

"Yes."  Will stops, staring at a charcoal sketch on the wall without actually seeing it.  He hears, somewhere else in the house, a soft thumping.  Perhaps the sound of a persistent memory fighting to escape confinement.  Will forces his attention back to Hannibal.  "I’ve thought about it from every angle.  The only answer I have come up with is that it’s a sign of mental degradation from too many failed drifts."

"But your scans have all been normal, I assume?"

Will quirks his lips.  "As normal as they've ever been, yes.  But maybe this isn’t something that would show up on a scan."

"How metaphysical of you."

"I'm serious, Hannibal."  Will drums his fingers against a small table, examining the statuette on it, not wanting to look at Hannibal.  "No scan is perfect.  They might have missed it, or maybe it's small enough that they overlooked it."

"Do you trust me, Will?"  The question makes Will blink, finally turning to look at Hannibal.  The other man is relaxing in an armchair, one of two placed facing each other in the center of the room.  Hannibal tips his head towards the empty chair, inviting Will to take it.

"That's a rather redundant question to ask someone who's piloting a Jaeger with you."  Will takes the other seat, a wry smile flickering across his face.  "And don't think I don't know what this looks like.  I told you, you're not my psychiatrist."

"Humor me, Will."  Hannibal leans forward in his chair, eyes intent on Will's face.  "Do you trust me?"

"Obviously."  Will mirrors Hannibal's posture, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.  The posture of a man who earnestly wants to be believed.

"Then trust that if there was something wrong with your mind, I would have noticed it.  I am trained to detect these things, after all, and in the drift, I get a better look at you than any brain scan."

"Comforting," Will says dryly.  "When do I get a better look at your brain, Hannibal?"

"When you learn to control your own memories," Hannibal answers simply.  "By choosing to let me manage the drift, you are choosing to let me take control.  In a normal drift, the pilots are equals.  In our case, from necessity, you've given me a greater share of the power."

Will scowls.  He wants to be equals, wants it badly.  He's sick of feeling like a crystal clear pool to Hannibal's murky ocean.  He wants to see the doctor the way he's always been able to see other people, and it bothers him more than he would like to admit that he can't. 

"And the only way to do that—"

"—is to control your memories," Hannibal finishes, nodding.

Will stares into Hannibal's eyes for a long few moments.  There really isn't any other option.  In the face of Hannibal's determination, Will is actually a little surprised he managed to avoid it this long.

"Fine.  We'll try it your way.  Once we get back—"

"No, Will," Hannibal interrupts smoothly.  "We should experiment out here, away from prying eyes.  That way, if something does go wrong, you and I do not have to worry about being removed from the program."

Will grits his teeth, eyes flickering around the room for a moment until he realizes that he's looking for some kind of escape route.  That’s ridiculous.  He’s uncomfortable at the prospect of subjecting himself to the memories again, but there’s no reason to be trying to run away.  What would he even be escaping from?  They’re inside his head.  Hannibal’s head, technically.

“Then we do it here.”  Will forces himself to relax into the chair, to act calm and controlled.  His clothes have changed without him realizing it, to the kind of suit he used to wear when he gave lectures to the Jaeger pilot candidates.  His armor for when he had to face society and act normal.  Why would he need it now?

“Come, then.”  Hannibal stands and holds a hand out to Will, who ignores it and stands on his own.  Hannibal doesn’t seem to mind the slight, just tilts his head to the side and examines Will for a moment.  Will stares back, and whatever Hannibal sees must satisfy him.  With the slightest nod, he turns to the door, straightening his cufflinks absentmindedly.

“We should return to the foyer, then. It’s the quickest path to where you want to go.”

Will isn’t sure that he wants the quickest path, but he follows after Hannibal as he opens the study door, curious as to how travel works in this impossibly vast mansion.  They step into a short hallway, with only one door at the far end.  There are tall windows down one side, but heavy brocade curtains in dark colors blot out even a hint of light from the outside.  Will slows, reaching out to run a hand down the embroidered silk.  What would be outside a palace of the mind? 

“Will?”  Hannibal’s voice recalls Will and he drops his hand off the curtains almost guiltily.  Sometimes he forgets that he’s a guest here, that Hannibal is doing him a favor by letting him in.  He shouldn’t be prying.

“Sorry,” Will murmurs, hurrying to catch up.

“Curiosity is one of the strongest motivators of human behavior,” Hannibal says, a soft smile of understanding lighting his face.  “However, I would ask that any explorations wait until a different day.  For your own safety, as well as my privacy.”

Will nods, a little taken aback that Hannibal would go so far as to encourage Will to poke around in his head.  For his part, Will wouldn’t want anyone wandering around his mind.  Any further conversation is forestalled when Hannibal opens the hall door to reveal the foyer that Will had visited in their first drift session.

At the time Will had been too startled and distracted by the success of the drift to really look around, but now he realized that what he had taken to be a simple entryway was actually a far deeper room than he had thought, with rows of benches on either side and a vaulted ceiling covered in delicate mosaics.

“Is this a chapel?”  Will steps into the room.  “I didn’t notice last time.”

“The Norman Chapel in Palermo, yes.”

Will pauses to examine the mosaic on the floor, a skeletal torso picked out in clean white lines against a dark red background.

“Wasn’t that the area damaged by a Kaiju a few years ago?”  The Category III monster had appeared from the Mediterranean, shocking the southern European countries that had considered themselves "inland" and safe.  By the time a Jaeger had been airlifted in, it had decimated a huge swath of Italy.

“I was there long before the attack. It was always one of my favorite places to visit during my stay in Italy.”  Standing beside Will, hands clasped in front of him, Hannibal looks the portrait of patience.  They both know that Will is stalling, but thankfully Hannibal seems content to let him.  Maybe he realizes that he’s already pushed Will far outside his comfort zone today.  “The building was miraculously unharmed.  They called it an act of god.”

“Have you been back since?”  Will can’t take his eyes off the pointed reminder of mortality laid at his feet.  A curious decoration for a chapel. 

“No, I have not.  I find that memory is a malleable thing, often changing without conscious realization.  Even here, in my mind palace.  I am afraid that after so many years, to encounter the real thing would be to sacrifice my image of it.”  Now Hannibal does move, taking Will by the elbow and gently urging him forward.  Their shoes click against the polished marble. 

“You think it’s changed so much?”  Will watches Hannibal carefully, catching a shadow of sadness in his features as they come to a halt before the ballroom doors.  Will avoids looking at them, keeping his eyes locked on Hannibal’s.

“I think I have changed too much for something that has stayed the same.  I prefer the rendition in my mind, the version of the space that had grown and changed with me over the years.”  Hannibal turns, regarding Will with that opaque expression that both frustrates and fascinates.  “I imagine it is similar to the way revisiting a childhood home inspires a feeling of loss.  The knowledge that an event or place may not truly be the way you remember it is a difficult thing to accept.”

A small house at the edge of a snowy wood flashes through Will’s mind, a plume of smoke rising from a chimney, a fallow field spread out behind the barn.  A gust of cold wind hisses from under the ballroom door, carrying with it the faint barking of dogs.  Will turns sharply, leaning his back against the polished wood, trying to slow his thundering heartbeat.

“Do you have a childhood home to return to, Doctor Lecter?” he asks, trying to buy more time, trying to build up his courage.

“No.”  Hannibal’s gaze flicks over Will’s shoulder, then returns to his face.  “It sounds as though your home is calling, Will.  Are you going to answer it?”

“Will you be there?”  Will fists one hand inside the pocket of his suit pants, but the other he lays flat against the door, sliding it across the smooth wood until he encounters the doorknob.  It’s icy cold, the way the screen door to the front porch used to be in winter.  The sensation bites at Will’s fingertips.

“I can let you experience this by yourself if you wish, but if something goes wrong and I am on the outside, my ability to assist you will be hindered.”

“And what ‘ability to assist me’ would you have, exactly?”  Will tightens his hand on the knob, not daring to look away from the intensity in Hannibal’s eyes.

“I would be your metaphorical slap in the face.  Something that doesn’t belong in the memory, to jar you out of it.”

Will hesitates for a long moment.  “Don’t leave me alone,” he finally whispers, half question half statement. 

Hannibal nods, placing his hand over Will’s on the door.  Compared to the brass knob, Hannibal’s skin feels like it’s burning.  “Together, then.”

“Together,” Will agrees, and a moment later the door creaks open behind him and he’s falling back into a snowstorm.  The last sensation he feels is the heat of Hannibal’s fingers over his own.


End file.
